“Either way, you have to promise you'll dance with me,” she says.
“I’ll dance with you right now.”
I dim the lights, hook up my iPhone to the wall speaker from the Class of 2013 and hit a playlist I've transferred to every iPod and phone I've owned in the past ten years.
“Riley,” she says, facing me, standing under the twinkle lights. “That’s . . . That’s our song.”
“Actually, it's our playlist.”
“You still have it?” She puts her hand over her heart.
“I do, but I haven't listened to it since the last time we danced together. Remember, in my room, the night before graduation? You cried. The whole time. I could feel your tears on my shoulder. I just thought you were sad because it was our last night in my dorm. Had I known it would be our last time ever—”
“Our last time ripped my heart out,” she says, tears filling her eyes again as I sweep her into my arms and dance with her.
“You held me so tight. How did you end up back with Collin?”
“He was there when I was upset. Princeton was . . . Complicated for me. My parents were thrilled I was there. When my dad helped me move into my dorm, he said it was the proudest day of his life. For me, it felt empty. I felt empty without you. And you never called me. I thought that you would, but I understand why you didn’t. Anyway, Collin got me out of my dorm, talked me into getting involved on campus. It was easier to just do it than explain my feelings. He was nice, but he was never you.”
“You married him.”
“I almost didn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“Before the wedding, I called you. I was having a panic attack and didn’t think I could go through with it. I had decided that if you answered I wouldn't marry Collin and that if you didn't it was a sign that I should.”
“I didn't answer.”
“You didn't answer,” she says sadly.
“It was six years ago. A Saturday afternoon in June,” I tell her. “I had just finished golfing. When your name flashed across the screen my heart stopped. I froze.”
“Do you remember in the movie how Keatyn's grandpa told her to flip a coin and she'd know what she wanted? I knew what I wanted and it wasn't Collin. But you didn't answer, so I thought fate was telling me something. And my dad told me it was just cold feet. That Collin was perfect for me. And I felt bad because they had spent so much on the wedding.”
“After I made my first million, I used to imagine going to your house and telling your dad he was wrong about me. When you came back into my life, I imagined a similar scenario. But then I went to pick you up and saw you kissing him . . .”
“I didn’t know he was coming. When I opened the door, I was expecting you.”
“Why did you kiss him?”
“He kissed me. I’m assuming you didn’t stay long enough to see me push him away?”
I hang my head. “No, I didn’t. I was . . .”
“Understandably upset,” she says. “I’m sorry. And thank you for the flowers. They were beautiful.”
“Your favorite. Remember when I promised to be a good husband?”
“You told me you’d bring me flowers every week. We thought it was so simple then, Riley. I’ve got to be honest with you. I’m not the same girl anymore. Life has left me feeling jaded and unhappy. I’ve been weak. I’ve let my life play out instead of living it. I’ve been going through the motions. And I take full responsibility for my actions. I’m ready to move on. Or start over. I didn’t know if I was just romanticizing the past when I went to California. I just knew I had to go. For the first time in my life, I truly felt like I knew what I was supposed to do. Where I was supposed to be. I can’t tell you how both freeing and terrifying it felt. But then the other night when we made love, all those feelings I had been pushing deep down resurfaced and I knew I made the right choice. We know the chemistry is still there between us. We know the feelings are still there. We need to see if the love is still there. And if we like the people we’ve become.”
“So we need to start over. Sort of.”
“I think so. I also need to tell you something else. Something I should have told you long before now. On graduation day, when we ran into each other outside the auditorium and I told you, I was going to put a note on your car. I wasn't going to tell you in person. But there you were.”
She reaches in her pocket and pulls out a worn looking folded up piece of paper. She lays it in my hand just as there's a knock on the door.
“I think our time is up.” I hand the note back to her.
“You keep it, Riley. Maybe read it sometime. It says everything I wanted you to know that day but couldn’t say.”
I give her a sad smile and shove the note in my pocket as the door opens and about thirty former Stockton’s members stroll in.
Keatyn and Dallas are the last ones to enter.
“We held them off as long as we could.” She looks at me tentatively.